The Jester bowed low before the king, his face witty and voice full of mischief.

"Your Majesty," he announced.

"I heard that a king is the pillar of a kingdom, but if I dare to say, the only thing you are holding is your royal weight."

Hearing his voice, displeasure was written on king's face, yet he laughed nonetheless.

Supreme Baloonhart III, the man who conquered lands with only victories under his name, was furious.

"Perhaps you didn't find this revelation to your liking, your Highness."

Knowing he risked his life, Jester could easily read his reaction, but there was no way he would back down.

'I must entertain the masses,' he thought and opened his mouth, bowing even lower.

"I have another joke just for you. I promise you'll be delighted if you would be so kind as to allow this humble fool to speak his mind."

Jester sounded persuasive, and the king didn't want to show that mere words had hurt him.

"You have my permission."

His voice echoed throughout the hall, while his power and dominant stature caused several of his attendants to break into cold sweats.

The same wouldn't happen to Jester.

Not in this life.

Barely containing his excitement, he blew air through his nose, smirked silently, and began.

"My liege, they say a king's face is the kingdom's fortune, but with your proportions, I fear your country will go broke."

Silence fell.

Almost!

Some attendants barely held back their laughter and let out the slightest sound.

They quickly subdued themselves in fear, but none escaped the radar of glorious Baloonhart.

He memorised their faces and would make them pay when the time was right.

Then he glanced at Jester. "That's a funny joke," he said, but there was no laughter or smile in the hall.

"A joke, of course," Jester replied with undisguised cynicism and proceeded to the performance.

His entertainment wasn't limited to cruel jokes.

He also showed acrobatic stunts, juggled, performed magic tricks, and told various gags.

Though no one dared to enjoy Jester's performance.

Especially not openly when the king wasn't thrilled.

Jester finished his entertainment with storytelling as he danced, displaying an unusual cap with a three-colour pattern.

Bells were also added to dangling sleeves, announcing his arrival.

He didn't have a name.

At least for the last 24 years, and he genuinely looked ecstatic as he was having fun making the king angry.

After finishing his performance, he bowed to the monarch.

Even though he seemed to obey, his mouth said the opposite.

"I shall take my leave before your noble ego swells even further,"

Jester looked almost comical when he said that.

Then he ran away hurriedly, leaving the king's vast tent before anyone could do anything to him.

'They won't hire me again. It's a pity, the pay was good.'

He set off dejectedly, thinking about suitable clients.

A similar incident repeated many times, and due to his unruly language, not only circuses but also most of the nobility refused to take him.

'If I continue like this, I'll go hungry.'

He hopped around gracefully as if what awaited him wasn't his problem.

It should be mentioned that Jester couldn't stay upset for more than two seconds.

Suddenly, his eyes caught movement around him.

'They won't let me go so easily, will they?'

Lowering his head again for a moment, he looked at the approaching warriors.

Soldiers surrounded him with their swords raised, prepared to capture him.

"The king summoned you. He's hopeful he can meet you again—privately! And this isn't a request."

The squad commander reported to Jester, moving closer.

"I know he is full, but it's not because of hope! Did he miss me already, or something? If he liked my jests so much, he could have said something. A bit of a bonus would have been enough as well."

His tone was mocking, which the king's soldiers couldn't bear.

Jester didn't care.

He was in a hurry to leave.

So he punched the approaching captain in the throat, and pulling a sword from the commander's hand, cut off the opponent's head.

His quick action was followed by an unexpected pause, which he used splendidly.

With a weapon in hand, he broke through the siege, killing numerous soldiers on the way.

"Wait, he's just a jester. A peasant Balatro, but how does he use a sword so well?" asked one of the officers.

Pursued by about a dozen warriors, Jester was running away.

They also shot several arrows, but with his agility, he had no difficulty dodging them.

Unfortunately, the country was in a state of war, and the army was close.

The entire corps joined the warriors, and Jester was thrown into a new encirclement—a narrower one, filled with additional enemies.

'I am such a fool.'

In the meantime, he thought and looked at his blood-stained clothes.

"Damn you! Do you know how much I worked to sew this?"

He exclaimed in dissatisfaction and cut down soldiers one after another.

His movements were like a dance, harmonious and clean.

The sword always found the right point, and no one could block his attack. It was invisible, and no one could dodge his sword.

With movements never seen before, the proud warriors couldn't keep up, and Jester broke through the line.

He instilled fear, especially since his entire face was covered in blood.

This jester no longer looked silly, but more like a killing machine—a monster no one could tame.

'Where should I go? Where should I hide? What should I eat?'

He was also thinking carelessly when his foot slipped in thick mud.

Twisting his boot inside, he kicked his other leg to the ground and jumped into the air.

Successfully returning to the road, he couldn't dodge the carriage moving in this absolute chaos. 

"RIP!" he roared, and the horse-drawn carriage flattened him to the ground.

Jester was used to pain.

Death was no stranger to him, either.

'This is the first time I've been hit by something and died like this.'

The warriors stood over him. He lay with crushed bones in a pool of blood.

They muttered among themselves and weren't pleased about his end.

Failing to grasp their words, he understood the king wouldn't be joyful about his demise either.

Before death struck, Jester imagined the king's angry face and smiled for the last time.

He wanted to say he died because of the punchline, but alas, it was too late.

Thus, darkness came and lasted an unusually long time.

Then he hung in darkness, with no control over his body, and heard a strange voice.

It was a soft, deep, and friendly tone, belonging to a cheery woman.

A text appeared before Jester, which looked like runes, although he had no difficulty reading it.

[Archetype System triggered.]

[Your information has been processed.]

[All 12 necessary lives have already passed.]

[The 12th and final reincarnation begins.]

[This is your last life. Don't waste it!]

'What the hell is going on? What is this system, and why is this my last reincarnation?'

Jester, who had just died, said in displeasure.

Sadly, he had no voice and couldn't ask anything to this strange entity.

12 different lives were behind him.

Each time he resided in different worlds, he took on diverse professions and lives.

He had been a Hero, King, Sage, and finally tried his hand at being a Jester.

Now he had some idea of the reason for his reincarnation and uniqueness.

However, he never imagined he would someday start his last life.

[The reincarnation is completed. Open your eyes and read the system's messages.]

[Welcome to planet Maskera!]

[Welcome to the world of Archetypes!]